


Potter's Party

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, background Ron/Pansy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2019-03-26 02:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13848597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Draco wasn't invited to Potter's party and he won't stand for it.





	Potter's Party

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally published November 8, 2012](http://dracogotgame.livejournal.com/34538.html)

Draco raised a suspicious eyebrow as a red and gold paper plane glided across the Great Hall and landed in Pansy’s lap. Said eyebrow went up a couple more notches when Pansy’s normally dour expression lit up and she hurried to scribble back a reply.

“What’s that?” Draco demanded, trying to pry the note from her hand.

Pansy whacked him with her quill. “Nosy,” she admonished with a sniff. “And not that it’s any of your business, but Potter just invited me to a little soiree he’s throwing this weekend. I hear it going to be quite the shindig.” She threw this particular bomb at him as if she’d just announced that it looked a little rainy and promptly started chirping about what she would wear. 

Draco gaped, unable to form an articulate response. In fact, he was so thrown that he couldn’t help blurting out a rather embarrassing question.

“How come I didn’t get an invite?” 

He was a little hur-  _surprised_. After all, he and Potter were almost friendly these days. They talked, they studied together and Potter even laughed at his rude but completely accurate impressions of Slughorn and McGonagall. In fact, the only thing they actually rowed about these days was when Potter accused Draco of ‘zoning out’ when he was talking to him. Of course Draco wasn’t doing anything of the sort. He was simply preoccupied by how brill-  _ridiculously_ green Potter’s eyes were. Not that Potter ever needed to know that. In fact, he needed to not know that almost as much as Pansy did. Not.

Pansy had her own ideas. She grinned like a shark at a beach party. “Do mine ears deceive me? Is the Great Draco Malfoy jealous of my newfound social standing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco sniffed. “I just didn’t anticipate the existence of a Slytherin-Gryffindor activity that didn’t involve broken bones and stray hexes.” 

“Jealous  _and_  defensive. How interesting,” Pansy crowed triumphantly. “Well I wouldn’t worry about it, darling. I think you’ll have to wait for your invitation, that’s all. Potter’s practically invited everyone.”

One glance down his table confirmed this. Almost all the Slytherin eighth years were holding identical invitations. Everyone except him, that is. It didn’t help his mood at all. 

“I am not jealous!” he snapped at Pansy, crossing his arms in a manner that was critical and disapproving and not at all petulant. “I wouldn’t be seen dead at a Gryffindor gathering! By all means, go to Potter’s stupid party! And don’t come crying to me when you’re choking down beer and…and participating in wet t-shirt contests!”

Pansy looked positively delighted. “You think they’ll have a wet t-shirt contest?”

Draco gave up talking to her and settled down for an epic sulk. Across the Hall, Potter caught his eye and gave him a nauseatingly warm smile. 

Draco stabbed his potato with a fork.

****

That weekend, Pansy Parkinson could be found stomping her way up to the Gryffindor Tower, muttering mutinously under her breath. “I’m not jealous, he said. I wouldn’t be seen dead at a Gryffindor party, he said.”

The white Welsh terrier tucked under her arm yipped and Pansy scowled at him. “Shut your trap, Draco,” she sneered. “If you had just grown a pair and asked Potter why he wouldn’t shag you already, I wouldn’t be in this embarrassing predicament!” She ignored Draco’s growls of outrage and held him at arm’s length, giving him a disparaging look-over. 

“Why do you have to be such a girly dog anyway? You look like a chew toy!”

Draco bared his teeth at her. Pansy huffed and marched over to the Fat Lady’s Portrait. Granger and Weasley were outside- greeting guests, giving them a one night only password for the party and generally being boring. Granger was in her element- looking over her guest list and bossing a morose looking Weasley about.

“You brought your dog?” she asked Pansy, peering curiously at Draco.

“Oh yes,” Pansy smirked. “Princess Sparkles here is so skittish. He just won’t leave my side.” Draco’s ears flattened and he growled menacingly.

Weasley just looked flummoxed. “It looks like a chew toy,” he commented, poking at Draco who promptly reared back and snapped at him. Pansy, on the other hand looked at him with renewed interest.

“That’s what  _I_  said,” she exclaimed, linking an arm with the stunned ginger and leading him inside. “Come on, Weasley. I could use a drink. I trust this won’t be a problem, Granger?” 

“No,” Granger snapped, turning back to her guest list. “You can take that flea bitten creature inside.” They were barely through the portrait when Granger’s voice rang out again. “And feel free to take the dog too!”

****

Draco tramped across the Gryffindor Common Room unhappily, dodging several unsteady pairs of feet in the process. The red and gold carpeting was getting on his last nerve and it was taking all of his upbringing to not give in to his Animagus instincts and go to town on it. Unfortunately, Malfoy decorum frowned upon urinating in public- no matter what form one was in- so Draco had to content himself with disrupting snogging couples and turning his nose up at anyone who tried to pet him. 

This left him sitting sulkily in a corner, watching the party goers with resentment. Draco huffed and lay down with his head on his paws. His only comfort was that Potter looked miserable too. He’d been skulking around the whole evening looking like someone used his Firebolt for kindling and acting barely sociable. Every time the portrait opened he would look up hopefully, only to resume his sullen silence when he saw the entrants. Oh yes, Potter was very unhappy. Draco sniffed in approval. Serve the git right for excluding him like that!

And he planned to tell him so! The second he got the prat alone he was going to resume his human form and tear a strip off Potter for leading him on by pretending to be  _friends_  and acting all nice and sweet and handsome and…what was the problem again? Never mind. Draco was right and Potter was wrong and really, what else mattered?

He was so caught up in his self righteous internal monologue that he didn’t realize danger lurking right behind him. A sudden hiss made his hackles rise and Draco turned to find himself cornered by a ginger monster. And not a Weasley either.

The kneazle yowled and Draco yipped in fright and suddenly the Gryffindor common room was just one big war zone. He dodged legs and skirts and shoes and tables, trying to shake off the horrible creature chasing him. Girls were shrieking and screeching and Pansy leaped out of the way right in Weasley’s lap (the traitor). Vaguely it struck Draco that as a dog,  _he_  should be doing the chasing but it was difficult to reflect on irony when being pursued by the Antichrist. So he did the only sensible thing there was and scuttled under the sofa, emitting a series of high pitched barks of terror.

“Stupefy!”

From his vantage point under the sofa, Draco watched his tormentor crumple in an orange heap. Trembling, he watched a pair of denim clad legs approached his hiding spot.

“Stupid cat,” the legs muttered, stopping in front of the sofa. “Nearly did this poor bloke in. Hermione didn’t see that, did she?”

“Is he okay?” Pansy sounded distinctly off kilter. Good. She  _should_  feel guilty for not even trying to stop that orange beast! Just to milk it he whimpered pitifully, drawing out a few more squeals and worried murmurs from the assembled female population.

“I’ll try to get him out,” replied the legs. Draco yipped, fully endorsing this idea.

A familiar face peered under the sofa, spectacles glinting in the light. “Its okay, boy,” Potter crooned, extending a hand for him to sniff. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you. Come on out.”

Draco shuffled forward until Potter wrapped an arm around him and gently pulled him the rest of the way out. Soon he found himself nestled up against the Boy Who Lived. Potter smiled down at him, running a comforting hand down his small body. “Poor little thing,” he murmured. “You were frightened, were you?”

Draco whimpered dramatically, drawing some more concerned coos from Potter. Everything was going swimmingly until Pansy cleared her throat.

“Perhaps you should take Princess Sparkles to your room, Potter,” she suggested innocently. “I’d just hate for him to get hurt down here.”

Draco snarled and squirmed in Potter’s arms, doing his best to just lunge at her throat for using that infernal name again, when he realised what she’d suggested.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Potter nodded.

Crap.

****

Potter set off immediately, Draco in hand. They marched up the stairs to the Gryffindor dormitory and the Gryffindor deposited him on the bed. Draco landed in a tumble of white fluff and growled at Potter. The Gryffindor chuckled and sat down as well, scratching Draco’s ears fondly.

“You’re not the only one who didn’t have fun at the party, you know,” he said wistfully. “It wasn’t that great for me either. I really wanted this one person here but… I guess he just didn’t care enough to show. I liked him so much and things were so….just so right. I just thought that maybe he…maybe he felt the same way. But he didn’t even come and…”

At this point, Draco pretty much lost it. His hackles rose, his teeth bared and he snarled and barked and basically threw the grandmother of all doggie tantrums at Potter. The absolute nerve of the bastard! Whining and wailing over some  _stupid_  tramp who was too air headed to come to his stupid party while Draco had had probably the worst night of his life trying to figure out what he had done to suddenly not be good enough for Potter! How  _dare_  he? Potter was an arse! An absolute, obnoxious inconsiderate arse who didn’t know a good thing when he saw it, who had the nerve to whine to Draco about his stupid whoring tramp who hadn’t come to his stupid party and Draco had just about had enough and Potter could just…

“…shove it up your arse! You and your stupid,  _sodding_ …oh fuck.” Draco’s rant ended in a squeak as he realised a few very pertinent things. One, he was no longer a dog. His agitation had lifted the Animagus form so he was now very, very human. Two, Potter was very aware of this- if his gaping and gurgling were anything to go by. And three…

Well at this point, was a three really necessary?

Potter made a noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘meep’ and Draco took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands, trying to decide if he was more embarrassed or angry. It was a tough call. Especially as Potter had stopped meeping and was now grinning like a loon. Draco scowled at the git. How dare he  _mock_  Draco at a time like this? He opened his mouth to berate Potter and promptly found himself with an armful of Boy Who Lived.

“You came!” Potter exclaimed happily, still trying to hug the life out of him. “You really came! As a…fluffy…white…dog.” He pulled away and frowned at a stunned Draco. “Why on  _earth_  would you do something like that?”

“Why?” Draco hissed so dangerously that Potter actually let go of him and scuttled back a bit. “ _Why?_  I’ll  _tell_  you why! It’s all  _your_  fault, you insufferable, obnoxious  _twat_!”

“It’s my fault you came to my party disguised as a poodle?” Potter repeated blankly.

“First of all, I’m a terrier! And second of all, yes. Yes, it is your fault! You have some nerve, Potter! Pretending to be friends with me and being nice to me and letting me cheat off of you in Charms class…”

“I wasn’t preten…”

“…and then you throw a party and you invite  _everyone_  but you don’t even think about inviting me! That’s just mean! When have I  _ever_  done anything that mean to you?”

“Well, actually you…”

“And then you have the stones to sit here and whine and moan about some stupid tramp that didn’t even bother to come to your party!”

“Some… _what_? Malfoy, I don’t think you…”

“Well, good luck to you and the bitch! I am done here and I have just about had it and I am going back to my room and I never want to see you aga….mmmph!”

Potter’s lips crashed into his and Draco flailed. They tumbled on the bed in a tangle of limbs and Potter grabbed the back of his head to hold him in place. Draco would have yelled at him about that too except his mouth was occupied at the moment. And then Potter pinned his wrists to the bed and straddled him, all the while not breaking the kiss and Draco pretty much forgot whatever it was he was so angry about. When Potter broke away, they were panting and flushed and Draco for once, was too stunned to say a word.

“If you’re finished, perhaps I could get a word in?” Potter asked politely, still pinning him down. Draco pursed his lips and Potter grinned, giving him another quick peck before he could react.

“First of all, I never pretended to be friends with you. I  _am_  your friend, you suspicious, paranoid git.”

“No, you’re not!” Draco snapped, twisting angrily in Potter’s grip. “Friends don’t do what you did! You didn’t even invite me to your stupid party! You sent everyone an invitation except me and…”

“You didn’t get an invitation because I asked you in person, you dolt!” Potter broke in exasperatedly.

“No, you didn’t!” He hadn't! Had he?

“Yes, I did! You were the only person I invited! Ron and Hermione took care of the rest of the invitations.  _You’re_  the only one I actually wanted to see.”

Draco just stared at him blankly and Potter groaned. “I can’t believe you don’t remember! We were studying Charms last week and I  _asked_  you if you would come to my party and…” His eyes widened in realization as Draco flushed and squirmed guiltily.

“You zoned out again, didn’t you?” he demanded angrily. “Damn it, Draco! Why do you keep doing that? You didn’t listen to a word I said!”

“It’s not my fault!” Draco protested.

“Well, it’s certainly not  _my_  fault!”

“It is  _so_  your fault! If you didn’t have such stupid, amazing,  _stupid_  green eyes I would’ve concentrated and…and… oh crap.”

Potter was grinning so widely now that Draco felt  _his_  face hurt. “My eyes are amazing?” he asked, obviously making a valiant effort not to burst out laughing.

“And stupid,” Draco reminded him helpfully.

“You’re stupid,” Potter chuckled, bumping foreheads with him. “And completely mad. I can’t imagine why I threw this party for you.”

“You threw this party for me?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d come and I’d tell you I’ve liked you for a while now. But you didn’t. And I ended pouring my heart out to a cute, little dog about how the bloke I liked didn’t care about me. Thank you for putting me through that, by the way.”

“You…you were talking about me then?” Draco asked, looking up at him uncertainly. “I’m the stupid tramp?”

Potter nodded, his eyes still glinting laughingly and Draco flushed scarlet, wishing he could melt into the sheets. “Well, this is awkward,” he mumbled. Potter released his hands and cupped his face. “You’re awkward,” he murmured, running a thumb down Draco’s cheek. “Awkward and mad and beautiful and perfect. I’m going to kiss you now.”

Draco managed a muffled ‘okay’ as Harry descended and captured his lips again. Draco moaned and opened under the Gryffindor’s insistence. He was doing a rather fine job of melting into the bed sheets after all, when a loud knock sounded at the door

“Busy!” Potter yelled at the door, the moment it swung open and Weasley stumbled in with Pansy wrapped around him like a scarf.

“Get  _out_ , Harry!” Weasley blurted urgently, as Pansy giggled and slipped a hand into his shirt. “I’m getting lucky!”

“So am I! And I was here first so  _you_  get out!” Harry snapped. The couple finally glanced down and caught an eyeful of Draco under the Boy Who Lived. Draco flushed, Weasley gagged and Pansy giggled.

“Oopsie,” she tittered. “We’ll just get out of your way. Come on, Weasley. I hear the Prefects bathroom has a hot tub.” She turned to give Draco a sassy smirk. “You owe me big time.” And with that she sauntered off, tugging the ginger along by the tie.

Draco smirked as Weasley’s whines grew fainter. “But I don’t understand! When did Malfoy even get here?”

“Odd couple, that,” Potter muttered, pulling out his wand and pointing at the door. Draco smirked as he recognized at least four different locking spells.

“Yes, because  _we’re_  in a position to judge,” he drawled.

Potter grinned back and chucked his wand over his shoulder, his hands immediately busying themselves inside Draco’s shirt. Draco moaned and arched against the tantalising touches, enjoying the attentions of his new…boyfriend.

Odd, crazy, borderline lunacy…yes. Definitely, yes. But as far as Draco was concerned…it worked.

And really, what else mattered?


End file.
